Silver Sword
by GillyRae
Summary: "It's days like these when Silas remembers how things used to be. Before the war. Before he became a knight, a traitor, a king." A self-indulgent little fanfiction about my run of Revelations. MU/Silas.
1. Chapter 1

It's days like these when Silas remembers how things used to be. Before the war. Before he became a knight, a traitor, a king.

It is overcast and cool, with the spongy meadows of the training field laid out in patchwork before him. His new castle straddles the division between territory that was once Hoshidan and territory that was once Nohrian. Valencia wanted it that way.

He's infinitely more comfortable on the Nohrian side of the castle. It's hard to tell the difference between the two sides, but Silas can. It's darker, mistier.

Valencia tells him that it's not good for him to think of Valla that way.

"Valla is Valla," she told him, "It's not Hoshido or Nohr or anything else. We're our own kingdom."

He knows her well. He can tell that not even she is fully comfortable being the queen of Valla. He knows she's putting up a front, looking strong for everyone else's sake. He wishes he could be like her, pretending so well.

But no, here he is, on the Nohrian side of the castle, his sword gripped in his hand. He tests its familiar weight, its silver surface reflecting the clouds above.

With the weather like this, he can almost picture his father standing before him, his own sword in his hands, smiling mischievously.

 _Go on then. Take a swing._

He didn't learn with the same sword he has now. The sword he had then was of a cheaper metal, not as sharp or as light, but good for a beginner. Technically, he had no real reason to learn to fight. As far as Nohrian families went, his had it easy. Food on the table, a grand house, noble status. It didn't mean they were free from fear, but it at least meant they were free from starvation. Free from manual labor. It meant they didn't have to fight.

But Silas's father had been a working man in his youth, and just because he married rich didn't mean he lost his fighting spirit.

 _Come on, son. The sword won't bite you._ A laugh, loud and booming. _Hopefully, it'll bite your enemies!_

But Silas was not a fighter. His mother liked to say he had a gentle soul. The sword always felt alien in his hands, no matter how long he spent training. Still, he tried his best. He never complained about the aching muscles or the frustrated tears when he bungled another position. He was the only child of a proud, noble family. A son of Nohr. He would learn to fight.

Still, Silas much preferred the days his family would make the voyage to the castle so his father could hold council with King Garon. He loved the grandeur, the lords and ladies in fancy dress, and most importantly, the princesses.

He didn't have many friends at home, a result of his lack of siblings and his lack of confidence with others. But he had known the Nohrian princesses since he was little. Camilla, the eldest, tall, imposing, and beautiful, Elise, the youngest, a little blonde firecracker, and of course, the middle, Valencia.

Camilla wasn't always around when Silas visited, but when she was, she made him nervous. She had this penetrating gaze which, paired with a gentle smile, made Silas simultaneously want to get closer to her and also run for the hills. As he grew older, he realized that that was what having a crush felt like. As a result, he avoided her whenever he could. Elise was at the castle slightly more, and usually spent her time tagging along with Silas, tugging at his clothes and asking him questions in her tiny baby voice.

Valencia was always at the castle. She was the same age as him, and seemed built from different stuff than Elise or Camilla. She seemed almost lighter than they were, like the hard, dark atmosphere that pervaded Nohr hadn't been able to touch her. Silas always thought she seemed restless, but not with the same spontaneity as Elise. Her energy always seemed concentrated on a fixed point, and that point, Silas discovered, was outside.

"What's it like?" she would ask, "Outside?"

"You've never been outside?" he would ask her lightly, because he knew the answer.

"Of course I have been," she replied, and he could predict the words before they left her lips, "My retainers take me for regular walks every day, like a dog. But it isn't the same."

Even when she was young, Valencia seemed all too aware of her place in the world, all too unhappy with it. He knew she wasn't allowed to leave the castle, as per her father's wishes, but Silas didn't fully understand her want. Who wouldn't love being stuck in this beautiful castle, with attentive servants ready to respond to any need or request? Who wouldn't want to escape the imposition of learning to fight, of being able to escape that Nohrian obligation?

Valencia was his best friend. She always had the best ideas, knew the best ways to have fun. Even if they couldn't accomplish all of them, it was fun enough just to imagine.

"One day, Silas, I want you to take me outside. Let's have a picnic."

They were ten years old. Silas's wrist was sore from training yesterday.

"I don't know how to cook," Silas said.

"You don't have to. We have plenty of food here. I can pack a basket."

"Why do you even need me then?"

She smiled at him. "Who else could I possibly trust to fight off the bad guys if we run into trouble?"

She seemed to have the impression he was a better fighter than he was.

He rubbed his wrist, "I think you'd be just fine on your own. Your big brother's been teaching you to fight, right? I couldn't possibly be better than that."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not asking you to be better than _Xander_. I'm just asking you to hit some people with swords for me."

Silas thought the plan was hypothetical, just like all their other plans. Bug catching. Stargazing. Attending a carnival. Just for fun, just to think about as they wandered the crimson-carpeted halls of the castle. But before he knew it, it was a real plan.

"Jakob will be hard to sneak past," Valencia reasoned, "He could probably be bribed. Maybe. Or maybe we bribe Felicia to mess something up big time, and he'd have to go help clean up… maybe I wouldn't even have to bribe her, just aid her in her usual clumsiness…"

"Valencia, that seems a little mean," Silas replied.

"She'll understand. Felicia's the one helping me get food for our picnic."

"She knows?"

"...More or less."

Valencia knew what she was doing, so Silas didn't worry about it. Every time he visited, she would come up with a new aspect of their plan, and then ask him for input. He never had any. But he never had any objections either, and soon enough, they were setting a date.

"Your father needs to stay over to negotiate putting down that Ice Tribe rebellion, so just ask to stay with him!"

Silas knew his father would be thrilled to hear that. His own son, interested in military business. Probably, he'd jump for joy.

It was all too easy. Too easy to pack a bag, too easy to pick a room near the princess's, too easy to creep down the halls with her, too easy to sneak outside. Too easy to look up at the stars as they broke into their picnic basket.

He should have known.

That night, his knee was a little twisted from practice. That night, he was having a little too much fun to notice the guards watching from a distance. That night, he didn't realize what was happening until they had descended upon him, shouting, grabbing his arms, adding new aches and pains to the mix. That night, he heard Valencia crying. It was the first time he had ever heard her cry, but it wouldn't be the last time.

They didn't let him sleep. They threw him into a jail cell so hard his head hit the back wall and his vision swam for a minute. He spent the night lying awake on the cell floor, his face wet from the frightened tears. His mother always said he had a gentle soul.

The next morning, they hauled him out of the cell, dragged him up four floors to the king's chamber. The light streaming through the stained glass windows hurt his eyes.

"So, this is the little rat," King Garon said, "Thought you could steal away my daughter, hm? It's a shame corruption in our court runs _so deep_."

Silas was too tired to lift his head to the king, but he could see his father standing next to the throne. He was so pale, Silas could make out the dark circles below his eyes from where he was standing.

There was no trial, no deliberation. Nohrian law was strict on the subject of traitors, and Garon liked to work quickly.

He was to be executed the next morning, only an hour or so after his father had planned for them to return home just a few days before. As it turned out, Silas's father return home would be his last. Their family was banished from the castle.

Silas would never return.

They threw him back in the cell, but gentler this time. Silas wondered why they couldn't just get it over with now. Throw him hard enough, and they'd spare King Garon the time to oversee the beheading.

As he sat, awaiting his fate, hungry for the first time in his life (the coleslaw he had eaten the night before hadn't been nearly enough), he found that the tears had stopped coming. Unlike his first night in the cell, the second one seemed clearer, not as dark. He wondered if that was what death was like. Clear and light. He hoped so.

After an indeterminate number of hours, he heard footsteps. Guards, maybe, but these seemed too soft.

A small voice, "Silas?"

Silas wasn't entirely sure he could speak, but he tried his best to croak, "Valencia?"

"Oh gods," he heard. A small sigh, "Oh gods. Silas. I'm so… I'm so sorry."

Her voice sounded raw, like she had been crying. He hated that he had made her cry.

"It's okay," he managed. He knew it wasn't, but he didn't know what else to say.

"I'm going to save you," she said.

He wanted to tell her that she couldn't save him, but he also didn't want her to be more upset than she already was.

"I believe in you," he replied. It wasn't a lie.

"I promise I'll save you. This is my fault, and I should be punished for it," she blurted, "This is my fault. This is all my fault. They can't k-" she broke off her sentence. There was silence for a moment. "This is wrong. They're wrong."

In the cell, Silas stood up slowly. His legs shook. His knees ached. He shuffled his way toward the door, put his hand to the cool metal.

"I believe in you," he repeated. He thought those were good last words to say to his best friend. He hoped she'd remember him for them.

* * *

Another indeterminate number of hours had passed since Valencia left when the door to the cell swung open, and two guards entered.

"Get up," one grunted.

Silas blinked in confusion. "Is it time?" he asked.

"Get up," the same guard repeated.

Silas did.

They led him out, but gentler this time, up the stairs. Silas expected them to bring him up more stairs, but instead they led him out the door.

 _Gods_ , Silas thought, _Are they going to execute me in public?_

But no, they brought him to a carriage. His father standing in front of it.

Silas was confused. It was an overcast day, but the light outside was still blinding him, making his head pound.

"We're going home, son," his father said. His voice was low.

"We're…" Silas repeated softly. He didn't believe it.

It was only after three hours in the carriage that Silas thought to ask what happened. Three hours of heavy silence. Silas thought maybe he'd cry, but the tears never came. He was still so hungry, so tired, in so much pain.

"The princess pleaded for your life," his father reported gravely, "But we are never to return to the castle again."

Silas looked at his hands as the full weight of his father's words sunk in, slowly. It seemed only moments ago that he was doomed. Now-

"Never," he whispered, "Never again."

When he got home, he took a bath. He ate dinner. He went to bed. The whole time, the words repeated in his head. _Never. Never again. Never. Never again._

Silas didn't train for the rest of the week. His parents only spoke to him a few times. They seemed distant. More often, he heard them arguing outside. Something about money, something about prestige, something about honor.

In that week, Silas gained a bit more clarity on the situation. He wanted to see Valencia. He wanted to thank her. But he couldn't.

 _Never again._


	2. Chapter 2

The sword they issued new soldiers to the Nohrian army was heavy and black. They looked a bit like shards of shadowy glass, like a bit of midnight sharpened into a blade. Silas thought for sure they picked them specifically for this reason, but it was more likely that they were the cheapest option to arm thousands upon thousands of lowly soldiers.

He touched his sword's hilt lightly as he watched his new commanding officer make introductions. Her name was Derren Townshend, but they would address her as "Ma'am" or "Commander" and nothing else. They would be up at 4 a.m. for training, they would eat breakfast at 6 a.m., they would run drills or train more until dinner at 7 p.m. Lights out at 9 p.m. Rinse. Repeat.

"Questions?"

No questions.

"Good," Commander barked. She was a tall woman, imposing, with scars all over her arms. She casually leaned against a battleaxe. Silas decided he liked her. "Now I think it's best you all make introductions. You'll be spending a lot of time together, if all goes well. So, we'll go around, tell us your first name, and why you're here."

They went around, and Silas began the process of putting faces to names. A big guy with an axe like the Commander's named Ivan, who came to "bash some self-righteous Hoshidan heads together". A bouncy, petite girl with a bow and arrow named Leah, who came for "glory and great stories to tell".

Silas hadn't really thought of his answer until everyone was looking expectantly at him.

"I'm Silas. I'm… here for a friend."

He didn't want to start off his military career with a lie, but he also wasn't sure they would understand his truth. His father had made sure to remind Silas to refrain from telling his story to any of the soldiers. His commanding officer knew, though. He could tell by the way she stared at him. He got stares like that sometimes. Probably, someone had warned her about the traitor in their midst.

Silas didn't blame her. She was just doing her job. And he didn't blame her when she seemed stricter with him, made him do the chores, extra push ups, extra hours training. She was just testing him, making sure she knew to whom he was loyal.

She had nothing to worry about. Silas was nothing but loyal. Just… probably not to whom she would have accepted.

He kept quiet about that too. In fact, no one knew his whole truth. Not his parents, not his officers, not the other soldiers. He liked to keep it that way. In the six years since he had last seen his best friend, he kept his last words to her locked up tight in his heart. He let himself remember them when the drills got tough or the weather was cold or the food was scarce. He would hear himself say to her "I believe in you." And then he'd imagine her saying it right back. And it was all the better.

It was the best he could do. The truth was, he didn't know what Valencia had said to set him free. But his imagination was good enough. In his mind's eye, he could see her standing in front of her father's throne, strong and light, like he remembered her. She was his best friend. She was still his best friend. She saved his life. And she didn't know it, but she kept saving his life, every single day.

In his first battle, his black glass sword clutched in his hands, he could hear his own words, the words he imagined her saying.

"I believe in you."

And he could fight forever.

* * *

Commanding officers were allowed to commission their own personal weapons from the blacksmith.

Silas hadn't planned on something extravagant going into it, but in the process of telling the Smith what he wanted, he wasn't proud to admit he kept aesthetics in mind as he requested a silver blade. Reflective, just like his old one, but lighter and sharper. He compensated by asking for a simple metal hilt, nothing extravagant. In it, he asked for his first name to be carved, nothing more. He had grown distant from his last name. His father didn't like to associate the family name with him, and he didn't blame his father. Too much dishonor. Too much pain.

Still, as he looked at his own first name carved into the hilt, he wondered if his father would be alright with the association now that his son was a commanding officer.

Not that his lack of a last name mattered much to his soldiers. He asked them to call him just "Silas", nothing else. As much as he had respected his former officer's strict, authoritarian view on leading, Silas preferred a more friendly approach.

He made sure his soldiers always knew they were welcome to talk to him if they had concerns. He wanted them to fight because they believed in their officer, not because they were scared of him.

It helped, too, that he had friends on his side. Ivan and Leah, his co-commanders, had risen the ranks to assist them, and he was happy to have them. Sometimes he didn't feel smart enough to command a whole squadron, but they kept him focused and always provided a second opinion.

And of course, there was Valencia.

He still hadn't met her, like he had hoped, but now that he was a commanding officer, he wondered if he now might have the chance. He hadn't even seen her, but he had seen illustrations. Every year, around the holiday season, portraits of the royal family were commissioned and put on exhibition in Windmire. He didn't make a point to see them, but sometimes he did anyway. It was good to know what she looked like, so he wouldn't be surprised when he met her again.

But he still kept their last conversation in his heart. It was still his secret, his truth, the one thing he never told anyone. Well, mostly.

Ivan and Leah knew, because they were his co-commanders. But they only knew that he had once been convicted of conspiracy against the state. Not the whole truth. He remembered the day they found out.

"Silas? You kidnapped the _princess_?" Leah exclaimed as they sat in the barracks during dinner.

"I heard about that," Ivan grunted.

It was strange to hear them discuss it out loud. "It's not something I think about often," he lied, wincing internally. He didn't like to lie, especially not to his friends, so he amended his statement, "I mean, I do, of course I do but… it's in the past. She and I were friends. We were young. I didn't mean to kidnap her, it was just… just a picnic."

That was the truth.

He expected Leah and Ivan to be doubtful of this shaky explanation, but they both seemed unfazed.

"You couldn't hurt a fly," Leah said.

"I've heard the king is a little hasty in his decisions anyway," Ivan muttered, earning a warning look from Leah and a light slap on the shoulder ("Ivan don't _talk_ like that!")

He was grateful they didn't bring it up again.

His life settled into a routine. He oversaw his soldiers as they carried out the king's orders, crushing rebellions and uprisings, mostly, sometimes standing guard in troubled cities. Silas saw too much death and violence on these raids, but he tried not to dwell on it. It was necessary. It was the Nohrian way. They had to fight. They had no choice.

He was a commander for nearly a year when they heard the news. It was whispered among the barracks one misty morning in urgent, hushed tones, but Silas didn't hear any of it until that evening.

"Did you hear? Your princess was captured by Hoshido," Leah reported.

Silas almost corrected her use of the word "your" before the reality of her words set in. His stomach dropped to his feet. "What?"

Ivan nodded grimly. "The public doesn't know. But that's the word around the army is that they threw one of the castle's senior officers into the Bottomless Canyon, then captured the princess."

"Disgusting," Leah whispered.

Ivan grunted in agreement. "We've let Hoshido get away with stealing our resources for far too long. Now they're stealing princesses too. Entitled." He spat the last word.

Silas found it hard to swallow his dinner. He allowed Leah and Ivan to share in their hatred for Hoshido a bit more before he excused himself and went to his tent.

He sat on his bed and stared at his boots, absently running his fingers through his hair so it stuck up even more than usual. He tried to sort his tangled emotions, and found them all leading back to one - guilt.

He knew it was silly, but he wondered that in all this imagining of Valencia's belief in him, he had neglected to remember that he believed in her. He wasn't a superstitious man, but he knew the power of positive thought, and he tried his best to send some to her, wherever she was. He couldn't believe she was dead. Logically, the Hoshidans would want her alive, for ransom. Emotionally, he couldn't picture a scenario where anything could harm Valencia. She was too strong for that.

So he did what he could. He tried to picture her as she was now from the paintings he had seen, but couldn't seem to get it right. So he pictured her as she was, exotic, confident. Light.

 _I believe in you_.

He hoped that would be enough.

* * *

He knew something was wrong from the moment Ivan stepped into his tent.

"Uh, Silas," he started, "News from the king."

Silas looked up from where he sat, polishing his sword. He was proficient in lances and dabbled in battleaxe, but his sword was his prized possession, and he liked to keep it clean. Now, he dropped the polishing rag and stood, brushing off his hands. "What's wrong?"

"Well…" Ivan squared his shoulders, "Your princess has returned."

"Not my princess," Silas corrected automatically because his emotions had become tangled again, "That's a good thing, though, right? She's… she's back?"

"Well…" Ivan said, "She is, but not in Nohr. The Hoshidans were apparently under the impression, somehow, that she was _their_ princess. They wanted her to stay with them."

Silas blinked. "What?"

"I know, idiocy, right?"

"So she's still in Hoshido, then?" Silas asked, apprehension coloring his tone.

"No. Actually, no one knows for sure where she is. She abandoned both royal families, fled the scene. Now she's wanted for treason in both kingdoms."

Silas's cautious elation immediately deflated. "Treason," he breathed.

Nohrian law was strict, and Silas all too acquainted with its stance on treason.

Ivan gave Silas a sympathetic smile, "It's a nasty situation for sure. Those Hoshidans… they must have brainwashed her."

But Silas knew they hadn't. Ivan knew too. They both knew.

"I'll, uh… let you get back to your work," Ivan said, eying Silas's sword, "I'm… sorry."

"It's alright," Silas replied, "I haven't seen her in a long time."

Ivan hesitated for a moment, and Silas feared he would stay and try to console him, but after a moment he quietly left.

Silas thought he might cry for the first time in nearly ten years. Gods, maybe it would have felt better. But instead, he stood with his head tilted back, his eyes closed. Finally, he grabbed his sword and stalked out the tent to the training field.

He had been so close.

It was there, on that training field, that the courtier arrived.

"Officer… Silas?" the courtier called to him, "The King has requested an audience with you."

* * *

Silas arrived at Castle Krakenburg the next morning more nervous than he had ever felt in his life. Even the threat of impending death had loomed less than the prospect of private council with the king. As he sat in the carriage pulled towards the castle, he entertained the thought that Garon would kill him. For the briefest of moments, he allowed himself to wish that were the case.

But he knew deep down in his gut that that would be too easy. Too easy.

He walked down the halls (carpeted in purple, not crimson, like the castle where he and Valencia used to play), into the king's chamber (on the fifth floor, not the fourth), and waited outside. The guards who had escorted him stood next to him silently. He tried not to let his anxiety burn him alive. He closed his eyes, tapped his foot, waited.

"Silas?" came a female voice.

His eyes flew open and beheld a short girl with huge blonde pigtails wrapped in purple ribbon.

"It _is_ you!" the girl gasped.

It took him a moment to recognize her, but when he did he found his anxiety lessen slightly. "Princess Elise. It's a pleasure."

"You're so tall!" she exclaimed, drifting closer to take him in, "Your hair is just the same though."

He ran a hand self-consciously through his hair. "And you've grown," he responded.

"Not enough," she pouted.

They stood in silence for a moment before Elise looked down, "Did… you hear about Valencia?"

"I did," he said.

Elise looked on the verge of tears, "I can't believe it."

Silas felt so strange, standing here, talking to the little toddler who had tagged along with his and Valencia's games, all grown up. Valencia, a traitor. Him, a commanding officer of the Nohrian army.

Him, alive.

"My father called you here?" Elise asked.

"Yes," Silas replied.

Elise nodded solemnly. "Good luck."

"Thank you."

She turned and walked slowly away, but Silas got the impression she wasn't planning on going far.

The king called him in, and just like before, he kept his gaze low. He bowed. "Your majesty," he said.

"Rise," King Garon demanded.

Silas did.

He was shocked to see how much the king had changed. Clearly, the royal portraits had been less than accurate. His skin looked gray, like he was ill, but his gaze remained as bright as ever. It made him look like a devious phantom, and it struck a cold dagger of fear into Silas's heart.

"Silas. It is a pleasure to see you again."

The way he said "pleasure" made it clear that it was not, in fact, a pleasure.

"You must have heard the news of my treacherous daughter. I should have let you carry her away all those years ago," Garon laughed at this statement.

Silas did not.

Garon continued, "I have heard of your incredible achievements as commanding officer, and I must say, I'm impressed. It's heartwarming to see such excellence in our own army, such leadership, such ferocity in battle. It is men like you who carry our kingdom through the hardest of times."

Silas couldn't hear a note of truth in his voice. Not one.

"So, I have decided to ask you to carry out a very important mission. We have gained intel from an inside source that my treacherous daughter is planning on moving through Port Dia with her ragtag group of rebels," Garon wrinkled his nose, "She's already turned many of my best soldiers against me, my own eldest daughter included."

Silas was surprised, yet pleased at this news, but he controlled his facial features. Garon could not know his emotions.

"Something must be done. So, I want you and your squadron to meet her at Port Dia and end her treachery."

It was exactly as Silas had dreaded. He looked down, trying to hide his horror, but Garon didn't seem to mind. He kept talking.

"To truly end a rebellion, you must cut off its head, so I'll expect you to see to it that my daughter is killed. Personally, I'd prefer. I hear you're very proficient with a sword. I know you'll be merciful," Garon chuckled, "It's a shame, really."

Silas's insides burned.

"Do you accept? You may speak."

Silas took a breath. He looked up, met Garon's gaze. He had nothing to lose.

"And this is a test, I presume?" he said calmly.

Silas watched Garon's surprise in satisfaction. He decided to continue.

"I haven't proven my loyalty enough, risking my life for the kingdom?" Silas asked.

"You dare-" Garon began, but Silas cut him off.

"If you'll excuse me for saying, your majesty, I know you wish me dead. And I don't fully blame you for that," he lied, "But you must know that killing the princess will only make her a martyr. If you want to truly squash her rebellion, you'd have to kill them all."

"Did I say you couldn't?" Garon snapped, "I thought that was a given. You're an intelligent man, Silas."

That was it then. He had only one choice.

"Alright. I'll do it," he said, "If I must prove my loyalty again, I will."

King Garon smiled, "I'm glad. You've made the right decision. Just know that if you fail-"

"I'll die," Silas finished.

"As will your useless parents," Garon added.

Somehow, Silas had been expecting this. He felt a light clarity in his head, just like he had felt so many years before. This was what impending death felt like. He just wished he didn't have to drag his parents down with him. Not like this would be the first time.

"Of course, your majesty," he said.

Garon had won. "You may go," he said.

As the guards led Silas out, a tad more roughly than before, he thought he saw the flash of a blonde pigtail around the corner. He thought he heard rapid, quiet footsteps.

 _I believe in you_.

But this time, the thought was for a different princess.


	3. Chapter 3

The ship Silas stood on was rocky. He had never liked sea travel, but he knew that the bobbing deck below him wasn't the only reason he felt sick.

"What are your orders, Silas?" Leah asked.

She stood, bow in hand, next to Ivan, his axe balanced on his shoulder. His friends. Awaiting orders.

Silas swore they'd both make it out alive today.

He took a breath, looked at the map of the city, tried to focus his thoughts. He had pondered long and hard about this day, about how he would word what he was going to say to his co-commanders. He considered sugar-coating it, or withholding information, but he knew he had to be honest and blunt. It was the only way he could save their lives.

"Our enemy will be led by the princess herself, if our intel is correct," Silas told them, "The king has ordered me to kill her."

"You specifically?" Ivan questioned.

"Yes, and I intend to follow orders," Silas said, "He also wants as many of the traitors killed as possible."

A tense silence.

"But you want us to leave the princess unharmed until she faces you?" Leah asked, finally.

"As much as possible," Silas said, "Order your soldiers to fight defensively."

"Silas, this seems impossible," Ivan grunted.

"You're right. But Garon wants it this way," Silas said, "And so he'll have it this way."

Both Leah and Ivan seemed surprised at Silas's bitter tone, but he ignored their looks, closing his map.

"I must also tell you that… if things go wrong…" Silas swallowed, "If I fail, he may try and kill you all. He will. So… please…"

He hated this. Valencia was his best friend, and he had to save her life. She had done the same for him. But he also couldn't abandon his new friends to Garon.

"If I fail, join them," he said, finally.

"What?" Leah and Ivan both cried.

"It's your choice of course, but if I fail, I couldn't bear-"

"Silas, what are you talking about?" Leah demanded, "You won't fail. You're an incredible fighter. You cannot let your personal feelings destroy you."

Ivan's expression was dark, "Silas, this isn't you. You aren't a traitor."

"You're wrong," Silas said, "I am. I have been for about a decade now. I thought the king had forgotten, but it's clear to me now that he intends to carry his sentence through. You two are not traitors, but I'm afraid he doesn't care."

"Silas-" Leah tried.

"Please," Silas begged, "Think of yourselves. Think of the troops. Fight defensively. Be safe. I… I believe in you."

His last words to two faithful friends. They both looked reluctant to go, but they both left anyway, stepping off the ship, snapping orders at their soldiers. But Silas wasn't looking at them. Across the water, he could see a small group approaching. Even from here he could see their leader.

Silas drew his sword. He looked at his own reflection, staring back at him. He removed his helmet and cast it aside, fluffing up his hair. He wouldn't need it.

The battle began. Silas was watchful from his spot on the ship, but he remained silent. He could see, with satisfaction, healing magic concentrated around a tiny blonde girl. He heard powerful dragon wings flapping, could almost feel the penetrating gaze of its rider from miles away. And of course, in the thick of the battle, seeming to almost part the sea of Nohrian soldiers, came Valencia.

She was exactly as he had remembered her, yet different, somehow. He tried to place it as he watched her fight. She was a gifted swordswoman, he noted with satisfaction. Confident. Sure in herself.

 _The outside world is beautiful, isn't it, my friend?_ he thought.

It seemed altogether too short of a time before she had defeated his guards and boarded the ship. Too easy.

She ran on board, panting, scarred. Clearly, some of his soldiers had challenged her. He was glad she had won. He was glad he finally got to see her again.

He just wished it wasn't like this.

"Your soldiers went easy on me," she snapped, "Why?"

He was surprised at these words. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"What's your game? Who are you?" she asked, pointing her sword at him.

"It's… it's me. Silas," he tried.

He waited for the recognition. The spark. He waited.

Nothing.

"Your father ordered me to kill you, but I can't do that," he tried. Maybe honesty would help. "I mean, you saved my life."

"I did?" she questioned.

Silas faltered. Did she not remember? How could she not remember? It was such an important part of him, something he had thought about so often. How could she forget?

"We were friends," he said, "I took you out for a picnic, but they thought I was trying to steal you away. They almost had me executed. You pleaded with your father for my life. I… became a soldier so I could see you again."

Nothing. Valencia didn't recognize him. He felt like the world had ended. He almost dropped his sword.

"I'm sorry," Valencia said finally.

Silas closed his eyes. His mind whirled. She didn't remember him. All this time - of course, he reasoned, of course she would have forgotten. She was a princess, she was a revolutionary. He was just a noble boy, a soldier, a pawn in the grand scheme of things. Of course she would forget.

"It's okay," he said. And it was. He had seen her again. That was all he wanted. "I wish it didn't have to be like this," he continued, "But you and I have to fight now."

Valencia peered at him with cautious eyes. Suddenly he realized what was different about her.

She was beautiful. The light in her was almost blinding, but he felt drawn to it anyway. Not like her older sister.

He wasn't afraid.

He levelled his sword.

The fight was over almost as soon as it started. Valencia was quicker than he was. He was sloppy, blinded by his emotions.

And he couldn't hit her. He couldn't bring his sword to touch her. He ended up on the ground, her sword at his throat, her foot on his chest.

"You went easy on me too," she said softly.

"My heart wasn't in it," he confessed.

They stayed like that, staring at each other. Finally, Silas managed, "You really don't remember me, do you?"

Valencia sighed. "I'm so sorry."

"It's really okay," he said, "I'm just glad to see you again. I'm glad you're the last person I get to talk to. I think… I think that's how it should be."

"Who said I was going to kill you?" Valencia asked.

Silas panicked. "You have to."

"Why? So I can join my father in his ruthlessness?" Valencia asked. She began to lower her blade.

"No!" Silas said, "He'll kill you!"

"I know that," Valencia asked, "But he was already going to. And I can't possibly kill you. You say I saved your life, right? And you were prepared to save mine, just now. That's why you ordered your soldiers not to harm me. That's why you didn't fight back now."

She grinned. She really was brilliant, silhouetted against the sky.

"Join me," she said.

Silas pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "This isn't how it's supposed to go."

"You're supposed to sacrifice yourself?"

He didn't have the heart to tell her how much he had imagined meeting her again. How little these imagined meetings matched up to what had happened.

Yet, he couldn't deny how much he wanted to follow her. He'd follow her anywhere.

"Alright," he said, finally.

"None of your troops will be harmed," Valencia replied. "I promise."

"I believe you," he replied.

Valencia smiled again, taking her foot off Silas's chest. "Wonderful, I-" she faltered suddenly, "Wait. Say that again?"

"Say what again?" Silas asked, pushing himself up, groaning. She had done a number on him.

"What's your name?" Valencia asked.

"Silas," he responded. His heart fluttered with hope.

"Silas," she muttered, "Silas… I… I think we have a lot to talk about."

* * *

In all these years, one thing hadn't changed. Princess Elise was as talkative as always. In the two days since he had joined them, Elise had filled Silas in on everything he missed and introduced him to nearly everyone in the army. In theory, she was supposed to be healing his wounds (which were numerous, but not very serious), but more often she brought her friend, the young Hoshidan Princess Sakura, and chattered Silas's ear off.

Not that he minded. It was nice to talk to Elise again, as overwhelming as she could be. And although she didn't talk much, Sakura was a sweet girl. He hadn't even known she was a Hoshidan princess until his second day, when, between Elise's winding monologue, Silas noticed one of the men of the army he hadn't met yet glaring at him.

Silas tried his best not to make eye contact - the man looked Hoshidan, and Silas already could tell that the animosity between the Hoshidan and Nohrian soldiers had not completely died away. However, after several minutes of the staring, Silas was beginning to grow uncomfortable, but before he could say anything, Sakura suddenly stood up, slipped over to the man, and whispered something in his ear.

After a moment, she returned, bowing nervously to Silas. "I'm sorry about Takumi. He's just protective," she said in a small voice, "He's my big brother. He worries."

Silas glanced over to where the man, arms crossed, still kept a wary eye on him. He tried a friendly wave, which the man visibly huffed at.

"Prince Takumi's better once you get to know him," Elise said matter-of-factly, "Right Sakura?"

Before Sakura could respond, Silas blurted out, "Prince?"

Both girls stared at him.

"Oh my gods, Silas, you didn't know?" Elise gasped, "Prince Takumi, of Hoshido!"

"Oh… and that means..." Silas said slowly, realizing, "I… I'm terribly sorry Princess Sakura, I've been so rude-"

"Don't worry about it," Sakura said softly.

"Prince Ryoma is around here somewhere too! And Princess Hinoka!" Elise added, "They're all very nice."

Silas decided on that day to expect the unexpected from his new companions.

Camilla also took the time to talk to him. As they travelled (Silas didn't know where, exactly, they were going), she drifted back on her wyvern until she rode side by side with his horse.

"Hello, Princess," Silas said, trying to mask his nervousness at her appearance.

"Silas. No need to be so formal, my dear," Camilla crooned, "It's been so long. How have you been?"

Silas, unsure of how to sum up everything that had happened to him since he had seen her last, replied, "Grand."

Camilla laughed her deep, throaty laugh. "I'm glad. I must apologize for everything. And explain. Valencia hasn't been around to talk to you yet, I'm sure you've noticed."

She was right. He had been all too aware of this fact over the two days. He tried not to be upset, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed. He wanted to talk to her again, to catch up, to get back to the friendship they used to have.

"She was quite confused at your appearance. Why she couldn't remember you. She'll explain more, but I needed to tell you the same thing I told her. Her loss of memories isn't her fault. It's mine."

Silas frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When you were banished from the castle, my darling Valencia was so heartbroken. She cried for weeks."

Silas felt numb. He nodded.

"Father was already angry that he was forced to go back on his own decree, and he didn't want anyone else to know about his… leniency," Silas could tell Camilla was having a hard time wording this lightly, "So he ordered Valencia's mind wiped of her memories of you."

"That's possible?" Silas asked.

"It is. For a powerful enough mage, it is. But it's difficult, and usually not thorough. Small, powerful memories often slip past. So, she remembers some aspects of you, but probably only a few. In time, with reminders, she may regain the rest. Still, it was an awful proposition, and I opposed the order at first… but she was so heartbroken, so depressed. I worried I'd never get to see my old, happy Valencia again. So I let him go through with it."

Silas nodded again.

"You have every right to be livid with me," Camilla said, "I've done you a great wrong."

"The way I see it, your father was more to blame," Silas said slowly.

Camilla looked off into the distance, her expression difficult to read.

"I apologize. That wasn't proper of me-" Silas began.

Camilla cut him off with a wave of an elegant hand.

"We are all entitled to our own feelings, dear," she said firmly, "You to yours, and I to mine. It isn't simple, but you aren't wrong."

Silas wasn't entirely sure what she meant, but before he could ask, she pulled the reins of her wyvern and shot straight up into the sky, startling Silas's horse.

* * *

An hour or so later, sitting by the fire at the camp they had made, Valencia finally came to talk to him.

She sat down next, to him, wordlessly, and he looked at her, unsure of how to begin. He hoped she would. But instead, she stared at the fire.

"Camilla told me about what happened," Silas blurted out nervously.

Valencia nodded. "She said she would."

"I'm not angry at you," Silas said, "For forgetting. It wasn't your fault."

Valencia clasped her hands together, "You're right, but I can't imagine how painful it must have been-" she trailed off, and then, quieter, "You became a knight to see me again?"

Silas squared his shoulders, "It was… a major motivation."

"Wow," she breathed.

"You saved my life," he said.

"I… sort of remember that part," she said, "When you talked about believing me on the battlefield, I remembered standing outside of a cell in the North Tower's dungeon, touching the door…" she squinted into the fire, "Hearing you say that. I remember the strength it gave me."

Silas stared into the fire, and was startled to see its warm glow blur slightly at her words. He touched his face, and his fingers came away wet.

"I want to remember the rest," Valencia continued, "I don't want Garon to have taken something else from me."

Silas tried to casually wipe his face on his sleeve, but probably failed miserably. He didn't care much. When he had pictured meeting her again, this had been more along the lines of what he had hoped.

"Your father certainly remembered me," he said, keeping his voice steady, "He ordered me to kill you personally."

"He isn't my father," Valencia said.

"Of course. Such a horrible man, of course you've distanced yourself-"

"No," Valencia turned to him, looking him in the eyes, "He is literally not my father. He stole me from Hoshido when I was just a baby."

Silas wasn't sure if it was this new information or the intense light in her eyes that made him feel suddenly unbalanced.

"So it was true? You are a Hoshidan princess?" Silas asked.

"I… suppose so?" Valencia replied.

Silas shook his head. "That explains it," he muttered.

"What?"

He wrung his hands, considered not telling her. But it had been so long, he had to. He wanted to tell her everything.

"I always thought you looked different than the rest of Nohr. Lighter."

Valencia looked away from him, laughing nervously, "Thank you?"

They sat quietly. The fire flickered and crackled.

"Tell me about yourself," she said softly.

He did. He told her everything. About his family, his father, training to fight. About when they were children, about all the places she wanted to see and all the things she wanted to do. He told her about his last carriage ride from the palace, he told her about becoming a soldier, becoming a commander. He told her about Ivan and Leah. She listened intently, nodded along, reacted where it seemed appropriate.

By the time they were done, the fire had died to embers, and the air had chilled. Silas could no longer see all of Valencia's face for the darkness. But he could feel her knee against his, hear her breath.

"Thank you," she said.

"It was a pleasure," Silas said, "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to tell you all of that."

Valencia put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm beginning to get an idea."

"Do… do you remember anything else?" he asked tentatively, hopefully.

"A little," she said apologetically, "Just little things. I remembered some of the things you talked about us doing as kids, I suppose. I just don't remember _you_."

"It's alright."

"It isn't."

"Camilla said you'd get your memories back with time," Silas reasoned, "So let's give it time."

"You're too good, Silas," she replied sadly, "Too good for me."

Silas thought on that awhile. "Well, we're all entitled to our own feelings."


	4. Chapter 4

"You know, I'd follow you anywhere, but into the Bottomless Chasm is a stretch."

Valencia shot Silas a glare over the map she was studying. "Not you too."

Negotiations over the army's next movement had stagnated. Valencia had done all she could to convince her brothers in Nohr to go along with them, but all they could do now was wait. None of the Hoshidan royals had shown much concern with the Nohrian princes' opinions, but Valencia had been tortured by the uncertainty.

"I'm afraid if they don't go along with me, I'll have to fight them. And my fight isn't with them," Valencia had confessed to him.

In fact, Silas didn't know who Valencia's fight was with. She refused to tell anyone on the grounds, she explained, that to talk about it would have dire consequences. To many in the army, this was worrying, but Silas had no problem believing her. For one thing, it wasn't as if he had much to lose.

But mostly, Silas couldn't believe Valencia would lie to them. The situation was too serious, too much hung in the balance. Silas may not have had much to lose, but Valencia had _everything_. Her family. Her honor. Both things, coincidentally, Silas no longer had.

What he did have, however, was friendship. He couldn't be loyal to his family or to his country anymore, but he could be loyal to his best friend, and that was enough.

Now, they sat alone in what Valencia called "the strategy tent". In reality, the tent was mostly a tarp over a rickety table and several stools. Valencia sat in her usual place at the center of the table, a map of the area stretched in front of her. Silas sat next to her, absently polishing his blade.

Valencia carefully rolled up her map and placed it into her leather knapsack.

"I appreciate you trying to cheer me up," she said, "But I'm afraid I won't be able to rest until Xander and Leo join us."

"I'm not sure that there's much else you can do at this point," Silas said honestly.

"I know," Valencia grumbled, folding her hands on her lap.

"I feel like I need to distract you somehow," Silas said, leaning back.

"How do you plan to do that?" Valencia asked.

"We could train," Silas suggested.

Valencia sighed. "Did we ever do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"When we were kids. Did we ever train together?"

Silas smiled, putting his sword away, "That would be a no. They didn't let me have a sword near you."

"Weren't we ten years old?"

"Doesn't matter," Silas said, "Only certain castle personnel were allowed weapons, and my family wasn't."

"I knew that," Valencia said, "I just… all we did back then was talk?"

"They were pretty exciting conversations," Silas said, pretending to be offended.

Valencia laughed lightly and shook her head, "I didn't mean it like that."

"Of course you didn't," Silas said.

"I just… I wish there was something that would stick out about our friendship… something I could remember."

"You've remembered things."

"Only little things," Valencia leaned her head on one hand, "It's not fair to you."

"In my experience, life isn't fair to anyone," Silas remarked.

"Well, you're not wrong," Valencia said softly.

Silas stood up. "Of course I'm not. And now, I believe the perfect way to get your mind off your worries is a friendly spar."

"If I recall, the last time we fought, I beat you rather squarely," Valencia said, giving him a smug smile.

"If I recall, the last time we fought, I saved your life," Silas said.

Valencia stood too. "Alright, I suppose that's a good point."

As they stepped into the hazy dusk outside, Silas could see the smallest of smiles on Valencia's face. And he realized that even if she never remembered him, he was happy to be able to make these new memories for her.

For himself too.

* * *

Valla was a wondrous sight. Floating islands drifted like clouds across a marbled blue sky.

What wasn't wondrous, however, was the Valian soldiers.

"Silas! Behind you!"

Silas whipped around, sword drawn and ready to fight, and watched as a pegasus knight with a wickedly sharp lance took an arrow and burst into purple fog.

He glanced around in bewilderment to see Prince Takumi, another arrow already notched, darting away to another area of the battlefield.

"Thank you," Silas muttered under his breath, shaking his head in amazement at the ornery prince.

Ever since they had arrived in Valla, it seemed a new fight awaited them every moment. The soldiers, only figments of a kingdom once prosperous, seemed always prepared to kill. Silas had long since given up on trying to figure out how they could stab and skewer just like any soldier, then disappear into vapor like ghosts. He liked, at least, that fighting these soldiers wasn't like killing them - as Azura explained, they were more or less already dead.

Silas sprinted to another area of the battlefield, where a blonde swordsman and a dark haired mercenary seemed in control of the situation enough that they could also argue over the clashing of their weapons. Nearby, Prince Leo of Nohr vaporized a line of Valians, shouting something Silas couldn't pick up.

And there. There was Valencia, neatly dispatching a soldier, darting to the side and stabbing another in a heartbeat. The speed of a samurai, the resolve of a mercenary. Silas, quite naturally, fell into step beside her. He couldn't work quite as fast as she, but he lent his shield when he could.

"Silas! Glad you could join me," Valencia shouted.

"How do you dodge so fast?" Silas responded.

"I don't wear such clunky armor!" She responded, flipping over a Valian and stabbing him in the back.

"My armor makes me look manly," he joked lightly, slamming his shield into a particularly annoying swordsman.

He heard her laugh. "Well, if manly's the look you're going for, you might need to work on-"

Suddenly her joke cut off. It took a moment for Silas to fully understand the sudden silence, just a second too long for him to turn, to take in the scene.

Valencia, brought to her knees by a soldier with a wicked club. Another swordsman in dark clothing, a sword raised above his head, glinting in the unnatural Valian sunlight.

Silas didn't think. He charged. He heard someone shout his name, and another voice screaming. He couldn't place who these voices belonged to before he watched the swordsman bring his blade down, down, felt the pain explode in his stomach. Saw the red.

Saw the nothingness.

* * *

He dreamed.

There was a little girl, who looked a bit like him, but with soft, rose-pink hair like Valencia's. She was stroking a horse, but the horse was also a churning black hole. She looked over at him, and smiled. She smiled like Valencia.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she asked, "The outside world?"

Silas felt a pressure on his stomach, like someone had tied thick cords of rope around him, squeezing the life out of him. It made it hard to reply.

"It is beautiful," he tried to agree, but his words came out short. It was hard to catch his breath, with all this squeezing. The sky was overcast, but his skin felt warm.

"You know what else is beautiful?" The little girl asked. The horse made a sound like a trumpet blaring.

The squeezing was getting to be too much, so Silas could only shake his head.

"You are," the girl said. She looked him in the eyes, and Silas realized he couldn't fully make out her face. It was his. It was Valencia's. It was everyone he had ever known.

"You should wake up," she advised. Her hand was small and soft on the horse, "The world misses you. The universe needs you."

Silas tried to respond, but the only words that would come out weren't his own.

"I believe in you."

The girl nodded. "You see? She needs you too."

"I believe in you."

* * *

"He's awake! You see! I told you! I told you, Valencia!"

Silas squinted at the sudden light. His head felt stuffed with cotton.

A softer voice, "Silas, are you alright? Can you hear me? Can you look at me?"

Silas turned his head towards the voice, and saw Princess Sakura, eyes round with concern, clutching her festal with pale fingers.

His mouth felt dry. That squeezing was back in his stomach. He looked at it. _Bandages_. Of course.

"Silas?" Sakura asked.

He became aware of a warm feeling in his right hand. He looked towards that feeling. He knew before he saw her.

"Valencia," he said. Her name sounded clipped, wheezing.

"He's alright!" Elise crowed. Silas didn't look at her. He only looked at Valencia.

She looked tired. Dark circles, rose-pink hair in a frizzy ponytail, shoulders hunched. Her eyes were tinged with red.

"Why did you do that," she said, so quietly Silas wasn't entirely sure she had spoken.

"Silas, could you look at me?" Sakura asked, "Please? I need to make sure everything is alright."

Silas, reluctantly, turned his head to face her. She studied his face, pressed expert fingers to his abdomen.

"You were right, Elise" she said softly, "The bandages did work."

"See? I'm very good at what I do. Valencia doubted me too," Elise said.

"Thank you, girls," Valencia said, louder now, "Could you leave us alone?'

Both princesses exchanged a look.

"Of course, sis," Elise said, her tone suddenly serious.

She patted Silas's head and left with Sakura.

Silas took a moment to take in his surroundings. He was obviously in the healers' tent. The warm smell of herbs was enough to confirm this. He couldn't recall how he had gotten here.

"What-" he began.

"You don't remember what happened?" Valencia asked. Her voice was tired.

Silas closed his eyes. "Did we win?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"We won, right?" Silas looked at her.

She shoved her head into her hands. "Yes, Silas, we won. That's not important. You… you threw yourself in front of a blade-"

 _Oh_. Silas remembered now.

"You had a shield!" Valencia was still talking, "You threw it aside! Do you know how- how stupid-"

"I didn't have enough time to put my shield up," Silas muttered.

Valencia stared at him.

"I wasn't thinking."

"Damn right, you weren't thinking," she snapped.

"Are… are you mad at me?" Silas said.

Valencia started to say something, but seemed to think better of it. She looked down at her hands, neatly folded.

He tried to sit up, but the pain in his stomach was so awful, he was forced back onto his back. Valencia gasped, touching Silas's arm.

"Don't sit up," she said quickly.

"Got it," he grimaced.

"I just… gods," Valencia's voice cracked, "I thought you were dead."

"I thought you were going to be," Silas said.

"I would have been fine."

Silas let out a breath. The bandages really were tight. He wondered if he could get Elise or Sakura to loosen them.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, "You're right. That was-"

Valencia put up a hand. "I don't want an apology, Silas."

"What do you want?" Silas asked.

Valencia looked helpless. He had never seen her like this before.

"I want you to promise never to do it again," she said finally, "Never recklessly endanger yourself like that again. Especially not for me."

"I can't promise that," Silas said.

"You have to, or you won't be in this army anymore."

Her words hung in the air.

"You're kidding," he said.

"I'm not," she snapped.

"You're our leader, Valencia. I'm just a soldier. Your life takes precedence above-"

Valencia cut him off. "No. No. You _cannot_ think like that."

Frustration flared. "Why not? It's the truth."

Valencia turned away from him, so he kept talking. "Valencia, you're going to stop this war. You're going to bring peace between Nohr and Hoshido. The world _needs_ you. It doesn't need me."

Silence.

"That can't be right," she said finally, "I can't accept that."

"That's how it is. I'm thankful for my life, of course, but I can't possibly promise that I'll stand idly by and allow you to be slain, when you have so much more you have to do-"

Valencia turned back around, "What about you, then?"

"What about me?"

"What about the things you have to do?" she asked.

"I mean… the thing I have to do is protect you," Silas said.

"You can't do that if you're dead," she snapped.

Her logic was flawed. Their logic was flawed. He knew. She knew.

"This is about more than the battle, isn't it?" Silas asked.

"You've devoted your whole life to me. And I-" Valencia began, "I don't deserve it."

"But-"

"No. Silas. I've heard your argument before," she said firmly, "But how can I possibly just let you devote everything to me, when I can't even remember you? How can I let you sacrifice so much for me?"

She was crying. Silas hated that she was crying over him.

"That's what best friends do for each other," Silas said. He wanted her to understand. She wasn't forcing him to do this. This was his decision.

She cried harder. He stopped talking.

She laid down next to him, her on the grass, him on the mat they laid out for him. She held his hand again until her sobs stopped being audible.

"I thought you were going to die," she said to the ceiling, "I thought it was for sure. There was so much blood. I thought my carelessness had killed you. Elise and Sakura were wrapping you with bandages and trying to heal you, but I just sat on the field and cried. I was so useless. I thought the last words I would ever get to say to you would be that _stupid_ joke about your hair-"

Silas blinked. "You never finished that joke. That was going to be about my hair?"

"That is so not the point."

"Do you not like my hair?" Silas asked.

Valencia sighed. "Don't make me laugh. I haven't made my point yet."

"You haven't seen my point of view either, though," Silas said, "I get it. You feel guilty. But I'm not upset. I'm not sad. In fact, this is the happiest I've ever been."

"Lying on the ground, unable to move because some phantom soldier almost skewered you to death?" Valencia questioned.

"I meant more in general," Silas said, "I've been wanting to be your friend again ever since you saved my life. That's all I wanted. _This_ is all I've wanted."

"Alright. But you can't be reckless. Put away your emotions, and consider my point. I can't have my soldiers throwing away all logic and sense for me. I can't fight this war alone."

Silas stared up at the ceiling of the tent. Beyond it, he could picture the stars. He imagined the two of them, two specks in an endless expanse of black. Insignificant.

Yet this moment felt anything but. She was still holding his hand.

"I understand," he said, "I won't be reckless. I promise."

"Thank you, Silas."

In the silence that fell between them, Silas couldn't believe how much had happened. How everything had aligned to bring him here, lying beside his favorite person. Somehow, someway, he had arrived here.

He laughed lightly.

"What?" Valencia asked.

"I'm a lucky man," he replied.

Valencia snorted. "Well, yes, I'd say you are. You lost a lot of blood. But I've overstayed my welcome. And you should probably get some rest, lucky or no."

She sat up. It was dumb, but he was disappointed. He wanted her to stay. But he didn't say anything as she bid him goodnight and went outside. He closed his eyes. He went to sleep.

This time, he didn't dream.


	5. Chapter 5

"So, when's the wedding?"

Silas sighed in exasperation. "Elise, we've talked about this."

"And you keep on denying it. But I know. You keep gazing longingly at Valencia, whenever we're out here. You _love_ her."

Elise stopped her words to cast another long-distance healing spell on their troops. The battle was only a minor skirmish, like the many that occurred daily as their army travelled through Valla, but Elise liked to use every battle as practice. Sakura had taught her the spell a few days before, and Elise was set on perfecting it. Now, Sakura nodded her approval of Elise's technique.

"I'm _gazing longingly_ at the enemy soldiers I'm supposed to be protecting you from, Princess," Silas responded.

A few days had passed since his injury, and Silas could now walk and swing his sword, the two motions necessary to help guard Elise and Sakura as they healed the troops. Silas longed to be back in the thick of the battle, but it felt alright to help out behind the front lines as well. The only downside had been Elise's constant pestering. Sakura, after seeing Silas's annoyance at Elise's teasing, had mostly stayed quiet, but Elise was hell-bent on getting Silas to admit his feelings for Valencia.

"Sure, of course, of course," Elise giggled, "I'm just saying. We're in a war, so you might as well take any chances you can get to be honest about your feelings."

Ordinarily, Elise's teasing wouldn't have bothered Silas all that much. It was just harmless banter, nothing to be concerned about.

Yet, ever since that night under the stars, Silas had come to the realization that perhaps Elise wasn't wrong. A realization that scared him.

Suddenly, Sakura spoke up, "Elise, perhaps you should take your own advice."

Elise and Silas both looked at her in surprise.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Elise stammered, looking suddenly pink in the face.

"Don't pretend I haven't seen you doodling hearts all over your notes in our war council meetings," Sakura said softly.

"That doesn't mean anything! Maybe I just like hearts!" Elise's face was fully red now.

Sakura just shrugged, "Well, I'm just saying, if you're sweet on one of the soldiers, I'd like to know. We're best friends. I want to know that sort of stuff."

"Well there's nothing to know!" Elise said hastily, "Now, I think my staff is close to breaking, so I'm going to go get a new one!"

Before anyone could react, Elise had bolted away toward the supply tent.

"She has two extras," Sakura noted calmly.

"You gathered that she had a crush just by her doodling?" Silas asked, suddenly self-conscious about his own behavior. He couldn't deny the possibility that he might have spent at least a little time gazing at Valencia. It was hard not to. Her fighting style was mesmerizing.

Sakura laughed. "Elise isn't very discreet about her feelings. I have my suspicions about who she likes, too."

Silas wondered if he should ask.

"But, she's right isn't she?" Sakura said.

He sighed, wondering if he should lie again. He got the feeling Sakura wouldn't buy it.

"I'm not sure," he said, finally, "I… I guess it isn't a simple question."

"So yes, then?" Sakura asked.

Silas laughed. "How selfish of me, right?"

"How so?" she asked as she lifted her festal to the sky, casting a healing spell with far less ceremony than Elise.

Silas examined his blade, swinging it experimentally through the air, wincing at the slight pain it still caused. He thought awhile about his answer. It was hard to put what he had been thinking about for the past few days into words.

"I came here because she's my best friend. Because she saved my life. And already that's caused problems. She felt guilty that she didn't remember me and that… that wasn't my intention. Now we've finally solved that problem, and it seems another is following right on its heels," Silas explained, slowly.

"You're afraid she won't reciprocate and it'll ruin the friendship?" Sakura asked.

"No, I just…" he sighed, exasperated, "I wish it could be simple. I wish things could just be the way they were back then, when we were kids. That was good. That's what she needs. A friend who will stick by her. She doesn't need further obligations."

"Isn't friendship sort of an obligation too, though?"

"I suppose. It's just not what I originally intended. I didn't want this to go any further than friendship. I don't want her to feel like my intentions were…"

Sakura laughed lightly, "Impure?"

Silas blinked in surprise at Sakura's tone. He didn't expect the young princess to make jokes like that.

Sakura suddenly sounded nervous. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, no," Silas laughed, "I just wasn't expecting that. You're right."

She visibly relaxed, the shakiness disappearing from her tone as she spoke. "Alright. I mean, I w-wouldn't worry. You're a very pure-hearted person. I can't imagine you having any sort of ulterior motives."

"Is that the sort of image I present?" Silas asked, "Is that what you all think of me?"

"That you're a kind person?"

"That I'm a goody two-shoes."

Sakura smiled, "Is that such a bad thing?"

"No. I guess not."

"Well, I could give you some advice." She looked down nervously, "I mean, i-if you want it."

"Shoot," Silas said.

"I think you should tell her all you told me. M-maybe you don't believe it, but Valencia cares about you. A lot. I can tell."

Silas felt his eyes drift toward the battle again, where he could barely make out the pink speck leading the fighters. From this far away, she resembled a beacon, a guiding star for the troops as they swept away the last of the Valian soldiers. It was easy to see the way the battle seemed to bend around her, easy to see the way she shaped reality with every step. She was going to change their world.

Sakura was right. He should be honest. But while it was easy to see her place in the progress of the war, he couldn't quite as easily see himself there with her.

He was insignificant to the world. He could have died years ago, and the princess would have still been a part of it. This, he knew.

Yet, he thought about their conversation that night. Her warm hand in his, the red rims around her eyes. Her haunted, pale, tired face.

Sakura was right. She cared about him. And perhaps it was selfish of him, but it made him happy.

Elise eventually returned, less in a huff, but still obviously perturbed. The three of them didn't speak for the rest of the battle, but it ended soon after Elise's return, so it wasn't much of a problem. Silas was busy with his thoughts, anyway.

Soon enough they were swamped with soldiers coming to have their minor wounds healed. Silas dismounted his horse and helped steer the troops in an orderly fashion toward Elise and Sakura.

"Silas! How did we look from behind?"

Silas jumped a little at Valencia's voice. It seemed worse looking at her now that he had come to terms with his feelings. His stomach was doing complicated acrobatics and he felt his knees turn to gelatin.

"You all looked… very far away," he managed lamely.

But Valencia laughed, to his relief. She seemed in a good mood, her forehead damp from exertion, her hair slightly messy.

"Well, you'll be back in battle soon enough, right? Then all those nasty Valian soldiers can be as close as you want them."

Silas rubbed his head. "Oh good," he said drily.

Valencia's smile faded. "Are you alright?"

He suddenly remembered himself. "I'm fine. A little tired, I suppose."

The concern did not fade from her face. "Are you sure?"

Sakura's advice echoed in Silas's head.

"Actually, do you think you and I could have a talk later? In private?" he asked quietly.

Valencia nodded seriously. "Of course."

"Thank you," Silas breathed, "Don't worry. It isn't anything bad."

He realized as soon as he said it, that, miraculously, he believed it. This wasn't going to be bad. He just had to be honest. This is what he needed to do. She needed to know. There could be no secrets between them.

Valencia touched his hand briefly, bringing his fluttery nervousness to a fever pitch. "I'm going to go put my gear away. Meet me at the strategy tent?"

"Sounds good."

He watched her walk away. The sun began to sink behind the floating hills of Valla, its orange light making her armor seem to glow softly. Again, he felt that same magnetism he felt the very first day he saw her again.

"Of course I would be the one to fall in love at first sight and not even realize it," he muttered.

 _Second sight_. He corrected himself. _It was second sight._

* * *

He ended up spending several minutes waiting for her in the strategy tent. He sat in his usual spot, chin resting in his hand, bouncing his leg nervously up and down. He kept trying to go over what he was going to say in his head, but by the time the sun had fully sunk below the horizon, his thoughts were far too jumbled to make any progress.

So, instead, he pulled a crumpled slip of paper from his pocket and smoothed it out on the table. It had just occurred to him that it was getting too dark for him to read when a soft glow appeared in his vision. He glanced up to see Valencia, hair tied up, out of her armor now, holding a lantern.

"You'll strain your eyes if you try and read without light," she said.

"Hello to you too," he managed. He was impressed at how calm he sounded. Perhaps his nervousness had somehow come full circle.

Valencia sat down next to him and glanced at the paper. "What's that?"

"It's, uh, something I've been working on." Silas smoothed the paper self-consciously with two hands.

"A town plaza," Valencia read, "A street food stall. A festival. Does that say 'bugs'? What sort of a list is this?"

"It's all the places you told me you wanted to go when we were kids."

The jovial mood in the air died immediately.

Finally, lightly, Valencia said, "I wanted to go to 'bugs'?"

"You told me that all the bugs in the castle garden had started to grow old," Silas clarified.

Valencia let out a breath. "I can't believe you remembered all of this."

"Well, you were my best friend. You still are," Silas said, "Also, I've been told I have a fantastic memory."

"And clearly I do not," Valencia said.

As she slid the paper over to examine it more closely, Silas stole a glance over at her. She glowed gently in the lantern light, her downcast eyes crackling like fire. He took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and gently took the paper from her.

"You're blaming yourself again," Silas said.

"How can I not?" she asked, meeting his gaze.

All the courage he had gathered quickly left him, and he swallowed. Remembered what he had to say.

"Valencia, I want nothing more than to remain by your side. I told you already that this is where I want to be. Your best friend. That's all I could ever wish for. You've already given me everything I've ever wanted."

Valencia frowned and looked as if she wanted to say something, but Silas quickly continued.

"But I also want to be honest with you. I want nothing unspoken between us. I lost you once, and I still remember all the things I wanted to say to you then. I've been given a second chance, and I intend to cherish it."

He steeled himself. Looked her in the eyes.

"Valencia, when I saw you again, one of the first things that struck me was how little you had changed. You were still the kind person I was proud to call my best friend. I was amazed at that. Thankful. But I think some things have changed between us. You have a war to fight. The lives of so many soldiers in your hands. The fate of the world on your shoulders. And it's all I can do to try and take as much of the weight from you as I can. But I'm afraid that I might have to add to it."

"Silas, I can't think of a single thing you could do to inconvenience me," Valencia said.

Silas chuckled nervously. "Well. I'm also a bit afraid that my feelings toward you may have changed too. It took me a while to realize, but… I think…"

Valencia's eyes glowed. The stars above her twinkled. The lantern flickered from its spot on the table.

"I think I'm in love with you."

The world seemed to fall silent. Silas tried his best to keep his eye contact with Valencia like he hoped he could, but he felt his gaze drop to the ground. He could feel himself blushing, and he knew how visible it must be in the light.

"Silas…"

It was alright, he decided. No matter what she said. She knew now how he felt. He could get over this if he had to. Her friendship was far more important than some inconvenient feelings.

He looked up at her again and was surprised to see a smile on her face. He wasn't sure what that meant. He tried a smile back.

"I'm so glad you told me," she laughed, "I'm so relieved."

"R-relieved?" he spluttered.

She rubbed her eyes, laughing more. Her laugh was snorty, childish. It was one of the things that hadn't changed about her.

"I thought I was going absolutely mad," she said, more to herself than to Silas, then, louder, continued, "The first day I saw you… I suppose it wasn't the first day, in theory. But I felt drawn to you. Under normal circumstances, I would have probably fought you on the spot. You were an enemy general, and I've never had the luxury to hesitate in this gods-forsaken war. But I suppose I knew as soon as I saw you that you were important."

Silas furrowed his brow. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I feel the same. But I felt so awful about it, because you were so eager to be my friend. I felt so selfish. You did all these wonderful things for me, had all these lovely memories. I found myself longing for those memories to be my own, but these feelings I had for you… just got in the way. Everything just got in the way. I was _so_ frustrated. You deserved more from me than unreciprocated feelings. You deserved to be my best friend, just like you wanted…"

"Gods, really?" Silas found himself laughing too. "I felt almost exactly the same. I already felt like enough of a burden on you, just reappearing in your life and expecting us to resume our friendship like nothing had happened."

"You're not a burden," Valencia replied quickly.

"And you're not undeserving."

They fell silent. Finally, Valencia reached over and clasped Silas's hand.

"I suppose we've both been a bit foolish, huh?" she whispered.

Silas didn't answer. He felt like he had done enough talking for the night. He rested his head on her shoulder. Valencia reached forward and took the list from where Silas had put it on the table. She unrolled it.

"How about this. How about, after this war, we do all of this together? I want you to take me to see all of this."

"Bugs too?" Silas asked.

"Of course. Take me to see the biggest and most beautiful bugs you know."

"Anything for you," he said.


	6. Chapter 6

The stars were surrounding them on all sides. Sometime in the battle before, Silas had lost his shield. Now, all he had was his sword, silver, reflecting the stars. It was still just his regular weapon, a simple handle, his first name carved into it. But now, it looked ethereal. It looked like it had incredible power.

It didn't, of course. But Silas felt like it did. Especially standing as he did now, side by side with Valencia, holding a blade that very much _did_ have ethereal power.

In the distance, he could see the Silent Dragon. Anankos. Silas had tried his best to understand all that had happened, all the information he had learned. But he still felt a little lost, a little behind. But it was no matter. He could be fighting the whole world for all he cared, because he was here, next to her.

He couldn't see her face, but her could feel her anxiety. Here was everything she had been fighting for. Here was the end of her war.

She turned to look at him. Somehow, even among thousands of stars, Valencia's eyes were the brightest things in Silas's vision.

"I just… before this all happens. I want you to know," she took a shaky breath, "I love you."

Silas couldn't bring himself to speak, so he sheathed his sword and wrapped his arms around her. He held her tight.

Here was everything he had been fighting for.

The dragon was the most terrifying thing he had ever seen.

Immense. Gray-scaled, with a single, multicolored, revolving eye. Like a beast from the darkest of nightmares.

He knew as soon as he saw it that he could never defeat it. Its power was far too incredible for a lowly knight like him to possibly take on. To this massive horror, his sword was nothing more than a needle. Less a threat, more an annoyance.

However, Silas was not alone. He stood among an army, loyal warriors holding needles of their own. Just one prick wouldn't fell this monster. But hundreds of them… led by the one guiding star holding the legendary blade Yato…

Well, against those odds, Anankos had his work cut out for him.

* * *

The sun sank orange over the misty fields of Nohr. As the chill of night began to replace the warmth of day, Silas took a bite of his funnel cake, still warm from the booth where he had bought it.

Valencia sat next to him on their picnic blanket. Her arm was still bandaged from the battle with Anankos, and in the fading light, he could still see the scars on her face.

For a moment, he thought he had lost her then. As she landed the killing blow on Anankos, as the world faded into a white oblivion, Silas believed for the briefest of moments that he had lost her again. He swore he'd never leave a thing unsaid between them, but as his consciousness faded, he realized he had never told her he loved her back.

That moment felt so far away now, sitting in peace for the first time in weeks. He was bandaged and battered too. One of Anankos' warriors had clubbed him right in his abdomen wound, the dastard, reopening the wound slightly and crippling him once more. But he was alive.

And she was too.

"Want a bite?" he asked, offering her his funnel cake.

She smiled at him graciously and accepted the festival food, leaning back to take in the darkening sky as she took a bite.

"Gods, it's awful," she said, finally, handing it back to him.

"Really?" he asked, laughing.

"Too greasy."

"Aw. Then the street food stall at the festival was a bust?" he asked.

"Far from it. The fried food may be awful, but their shortcake is wonderful," she said, flicking a finger through the cream topping of her shortcake and dabbing it on his nose.

He made to wipe it off, laughing again, but before he could, she swooped in and gave him a kiss on his nose, taking the cream back.

He still felt the need to hide his blush, but the way she was looking at him made this attempt seem rather futile.

He nervously ran a hand through his hair, clearing his throat. "So… you like this?"

Valencia turned her gaze back toward the horizon. After a moment, she smiled. "I love it."

 _And I love you_ , he thought. He should have said it right then. That would have been suave, smooth.

But on second thought, it felt too casual. The way she had told him in that moment before their last battle, the way her face looked surrounded by that improbable backdrop of stars… how could he hope to match that?

"What's wrong?" Valencia asked, "You're squinting."

"I'm what?" Silas asked.

"It's what you do when you're upset. You think frowning is too negative an expression for you, so you squint instead." Her tone was light enough to tell him she was joking, but he was surprised at this observation. He hadn't even noticed this habit of his.

He thought about that oblivion of light, that too-real possibility of losing her again to the silent dragon.

"I keep thinking about our fight with Anankos," he said.

Apparently, frowning _was_ something Valencia was capable of. "You're not alone in that."

"Specifically when you dealt that last blow, and I thought… well I didn't know you had made it," he said, "And I told you I never wanted anything left unsaid between us, and…"

"Is there something you need to tell me?" Valencia asked.

The sky was fully dark now. Perhaps by virtue of the state of the sky, the picnic blanket underneath him, and the woman by his side, he was reminded of that night by the North Tower. Except now there weren't any guards to take him from her.

Wordlessly, Silas laid down on his back, fixing his gaze on the sky. Valencia watched him for a moment before joining him, holding his hand.

"You told me you loved me. And I didn't get to say it back," he said to the sky.

Silence. Then.

"You didn't? I thought you did."

"No, I definitely didn't."

"Oh gods, are you breaking up with me?"

She was joking again, but he noted a slight edge to her voice, like she was actually a bit worried.

"No, no no. No, I just feel like there's no way for me to tell you with the same significance that you told me."

She pushed herself up on one elbow, looking at him. "You aren't serious?"

"I'm very serious."

She laughed gently. "You're such a sap."

"So I've been told."

"Well, first of all, it doesn't matter how you tell me. I suspect hearing it from you will be beautiful enough without the threat of death looming over our heads," she said, "And second, I suspect it'd be even better without Anankos breathing down our necks."

"In that case-" Silas sat up, then stood, turning to offer a hand to Valencia. She took it and he pulled her to her feet.

"Valencia, with this beautiful night and this sub-par festival food being far less dangerous than a millennium-old hellbeast, and with my promise to never let things go unsaid between us, I have to tell you that…"

Valencia smiled, "That…?"

"That…" Silas looked around, "That those lightning bugs over there look _pretty_ exciting. Is that good enough for our list, or do you think we need to find something better?"

"I don't know, Silas, that might be a deal-breaker."

"Well that's a shame, because I love you so much."

Valencia's expression softened. "Now, see, that was plenty beautiful."

And in that moment, as she pressed her lips to his, Silas had to agree.

* * *

It's days like these when Silas remembers how things used to be. Before the war. Before he became a knight, a traitor, a king.

But he knows it's too easy to get lost in the past. He's had to withstand terrible things, and beautiful things, and everything in between. Today, he is a king. Yesterday, he was a lost soul. Who knows? Tomorrow, he might uncover wonders even more surprising, truths even more terrible.

On days like these, he allows himself to reminisce, but only for a few moments. He has a kingdom to serve, a family to care for. A daughter. A son.

He sheathes his sword, turns back to the castle. He can see her coming toward him, with the posture and poise of a queen.

He's expecting her to come with news. Perhaps King Ryoma wants to discuss the complex issue of Valian-Hoshidan immigration. Perhaps King Xander has encountered problems with bandits raiding the merchant carriages carrying goods to Nohr. Perhaps some other unspeakable threat is threatening their peace.

But she's carrying her sword, and she's smiling. Silas relaxes.

"You looked lonely," she says, "So I thought I'd join you. I hope you don't mind."

He isn't prepared for the pang of emotions that accompanies her appearance. He supposes all these memories have stirred them up.

"What?" she asks.

"Nothing," he says, "Just lost in memories."

She nods. She understands. She sheathes her sword and wraps her arms around him. She's warm, a contrast to the chilly air.

"I suggest you find your way back," she murmurs, "Or else I'll win this sparring match."

He laughs. "It wouldn't be the first time."

In the clang of their swords, he can feel the past slipping away. He'll go back to remembering it another day.

But today, he wants to focus on the future.

-End-


End file.
